


Junk In the Impala Trunk

by Forlorn Kumquat (sara_wolfe)



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [1]
Category: Fantastic Four, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/Forlorn%20Kumquat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various Supernatural ficlets that don't fit anywhere else. Most are cross-posted to Tumblr. Some ficlets will contain spoilers and will be marked appropriately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam and Dean; Sam confronts Dean after his comments in Paper Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episode 10.4, Paper Moon

_"What? That sling come with a slice of cry-baby pie on the side?"_

As hard as he tried, Sam couldn’t get Dean’s words out of his head, kept hearing that mocking tone every time he so much as bumped his bum arm. It was like Dean had been almost mad at him for getting hurt, but that was stupid, right? Dean had just been teasing him, like they always did. Brothers gave each other shit over stuff like that all the time. Didn’t they?

Except that while Dean had teased him before, he’d never been so dismissive of an injury. He’d never cut Sam off and made fun of his pain. And Sam couldn’t remember ever treating Dean’s injuries like a joke.

"Don’t tell me you’re still nursing that busted wing?" Dean’s harsh voice cut into his thoughts, and Sam started in surprise as his brother strode into the kitchen.

"It hurts," Sam muttered, defensively, feeling irrationally like he was whining.

“ _It hurts_ ,” Dean parroted back at him, smirking. “Man up, Sammy. It’s just a sprain.”

"It’s not just a sprain-"

"Geez," Dean went on, interrupting him, "I’m gone for a few months and you let this place go to shit, let some puny demons walk all over you-"

"YOU WERE A DEMON!" Sam could hardly believe the words even as they left his mouth. Couldn’t believe he was yelling at his brother, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. "You took on that damn Mark, and became a demon because of it, and I got this busted wing - which is actually two humeral fractures, not that you seem to care - because I was trying to find you. And if this place looks like shit, it’s because the world didn’t stop turning while you were gone, Dean, and people still needed my help, and I was a little busy fighting monsters on my own because Cas is dying and I didn’t want to bother him."

Sam cut himself off, chest heaving as he stared down at his startled brother. “It’s not just a sprain,” he muttered, suddenly worn out.

Dean gaped at him like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Cas isn’t dying,” he finally replied, and Sam huffed in exasperation, because of course that was what Dean would focus on.

"What else would you call Metatron sucking all his grace out?" he asked.

"He, uh, he got more grace," Dean told him, still staring warily at Sam like he thought he might start yelling again. "Crowley ganked some angel and stuffed her grace inside Cas. Didn’t he tell you?"

No, he hadn’t, and Sam found himself more than a little annoyed at being left out of the loop. Although that certainly explained how Cas had been able to restrain Dean so easily.

"Your arm is broken?" Dean went on. "Sam, man, I didn’t know. I thought you were just-"

"Just what, Dean?" Sam asked, an endge in his voice that he didn’t even try to hide. "You thought I was just being a cry baby because I’d gotten hurt?” Dean flinched to have his own words thrown in his face, but Sam was tired, and he was in pain, and he just didn’t want to stop. “So what if it was just a sprain, Dean? Because I’m not dying, suddenly I’m not worthy of some damn sympathy?”

"I never said that," Dean bristled, angry.

"You sure as hell implied it," Sam shot back. "You used to care when I got hurt, Dean."

"Don’t give me that," Dean snapped at him. "I saved your life, last year. Remember?"

"You didn’t save me for me, you saved me for you!" Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself down. "Forget it, Dean. Just - just forget it. I can’t keep fighting with you over this."

Dean looked almost stricken at Sam’s words. “Sam, I-“

"Don’t!" Sam cut him off, sharply. "Don’t you dare apologize. Not until you actually mean it." Pushing past Dean, he added, "Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go lay down for a while because my arm hurts."

As he stalked down the hall, he resisted the urge to turn around and check on Dean. He was tired of always being the one to give up ground, and he wanted his brother to come to him for once. It was no less than what he deserved.

Wasn’t it?


	2. Sam and Amy; trick-or-treating

"You’ve _never_ been trick or treating?”

Sam cringed slightly at the incredulous tone in Amy’s voice. “I didn’t say never,” he protested. “But, I grew up in a lot of shitty motel rooms; there’s not a lot of people handing out candy, you know?”

"That’s it, we’re going trick or treating," Amy declared.

"We’re on the run from my dad," Sam said, "and you want to go beg strangers for candy?"

Amy shrugged. “We’ll wear costumes.”

"Don’t you think we’re a little old for trick or treating?" Sam asked. "I mean, it’s for kids."

"Well, you had a crappy childhood," Amy countered.

"It wasn’t that bad," Sam protested, automatically.

"Sam," Amy said, patiently, "my mother taught me how to kill people and eat their brains and I still had a better childhood than you.”

Sam huffed a sigh, and Amy dropped an arm around his shoulders. “If you really don’t want to go, we don’t have to,” she told him. “I used to have fun when I was a kid, and I wanted to share it with you, but I don’t want you to be miserable all night. So, what do you want to do?”

"You really mean that?" Sam asked, and Amy nodded.

"I love you, you dork," she said, smiling, as she leaned on Sam and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I want you to be happy."

"Maybe trick or treating wouldn’t be too bad," Sam ventured, "if I did it with you. Will you hold my hand if we see any clowns?" he asked.

"Only if you hold mine when we see ghosts," Amy replied. "Come on, let’s hit the thrift shop and get costume supplies."


	3. Kevin and Adam; writer and editor AU

"That doesn’t look like writing."

Kevin hastily switched windows on his computer screen, back to a mostly empty document. He smiled at Adam, giving his boyfriend an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been working on my application essays all day.”

Adam perched on the arm of the couch next to Kevin, leaning over until he was draped over the younger man’s shoulders. He poked at a couple of keys on the keyboard, bringing up a couple of distinctive blue and red screens. “So, you haven’t been browsing Tumblr and Netflix when you’re supposed to be working on your college applications?”

"Nope," Kevin lied, completely straight-faced. "I don’t know how those got there."

"You know," Adam sighed, "I can’t proofread the essays for you if you don’t actually write them."

Kevin’s shoulders slumped. “Writing’s hard, and it sucks,” he grumped. “And I’ve been working on these stupid applications for the last sixteen hours straight, and I’m about ready to give up and become a professional hermit.”

"Well, we can’t have that," Adam remarked.

"Sam made applying for law school look like so much fun," Kevin muttered, mulishly.

Adam snorted in amusement. “Just ask Jess about the time she found him outside at three in the morning, tracing crop circles in the snow behind their apartment.”

Grabbing Kevin’s laptop, he moved it onto the coffee table in front of the couch, and then he dropped onto the couch beside his boyfriend, slumping against the cushions and pulling Kevin over to rest against his chest.

"What are you doing?" Kevin protested, weakly.

"Taking a break with you," Adam told him, as he leaned over and tapped Netflix back to life. "Now, what are we watching?"


	4. Claire and Jesse; angel hunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: Claire's return to Supernatural

"Never walk alone at night. Mom would be having kittens right now if she knew what I was doing." Theresa Brody let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh at the sound of her own voice. Glancing upward, she muttered, "God, if I make it home safe tonight, I swear I’m never gonna walk alone again."

"You’re not alone now."

Theresa squeaked, plastering herself against the brick wall as she spun to face the speaker. A man stepped out of the shadows, moving slowly toward her. He was gaunt and pale, and a thin line of blood trickled from his nose. Theresa swallowed hard as she groped in her pockets for the pepper spray she’d foolishly left sitting on her desk that morning.

"You’re not alone," the man repeated, smiling as he advanced on her, "Not with God watching over you. And you never have to be alone again. Not if you say yes."

The man was close enough now that Theresa could feel his hot breath on her neck. She could see the broken veins in his eyes, smell the coppery tang of the blood slowly dripping down his face.

"Please," she whimpered, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the wall behind her.

"You are my true vessel," the man crooned at her. "The one who was made for me."

"What do you want?" Theresa choked out, her voice cracking on the last words.

"I want you to say yes." The man started to glow brightly and Theresa wanted to shut her eyes but she couldn’t. She could only stare transfixed at the light. "Say yes," the man said, "and neither of us will ever be alone again."

Theresa opened her mouth to scream, and the light overwhelmed her…

—————

Claire Novak cursed as she rushed into the alleyway just in time to see the light fade from the body of a young woman. The woman - no, the angel - stepped away from the wall she’d been leaning against, over the fallen body of her former vessel, giving it as much thought as a piece of garbage.

The angel flexed her fingers, staring at her hands as if entranced. She walked in a slow circle, testing out her new body, but she froze when she saw Claire blocking her way out of the alley.

"And here I was hoping that no one would see me," she sighed. "You know, if you’d just kept walking we could have avoided all this messiness."

"You mean the part where you kill me to keep me quiet?" Claire asked. "Or, maybe you’re just gonna stuff one of your angel buddies in me, instead. Yeah, I don’t think so."

Claire pulled the angel blade from the sheath at her waist, pointing menacingly at the angel. “Get the hell out of that woman.”

"She wants me here," the angel said, a creepy smile on her face. "She said yes."

"It’s not consent if you coerce it out of her!" Claire snarled. "Now get the hell out!"

"I am a warrior of Heaven," the angel said, smugly. "You are an insect. What could you possibly do to me?"

"More than you think."

The angel whirled around at the voice coming from behind her as Jesse Turner jumped down from a fire escape at the end of the alley. He waggled his fingers in a small wave, brandishing a small squirt gun in his other hand. He sprayed a few quick streams of liquid at the ground around the angel’s feet, grinning in triumph as they burst into flame. The angel jerked back as the holy fire sprang to life around her, her hesitation giving Jesse time to complete the circle.

"You’re late," Claire scolded Jesse as she joined him.

"I took the rooftops," Jesse told her, gesturing upward by way of explanation.

"You can teleport," Claire protested.

"I was trying to be stealthy!” Jesse shot back. “Anyway, I got that spell you wanted.”

"Gimme," Claire said, impatiently, snatching the piece of paper out of Jesse’s hand. "Are you sure this is gonna-"

"Oh, yeah," Jesse said, when she trailed off. "It’s gonna work perfectly."

"What’s going to work?" the angel demanded, when they both went silent and stared at her. "What kind of spell are you talking about?"

"You’ll see," Claire replied.

Looking down at the paper, she began to chant. The Enochian felt like needles stabbing at her throat, like fire in her lungs. Her voice cracked in pain, and she stumbled over a couple of words.

"You can do this," Jesse whispered in her ear, clutching painfully at her shoulder. "Come on, Claire, you’ve got this. I can’t do it; it’s all you."

She took a deep breath and kept chanting. In the circle of holy fire, the angel had fallen to her knees, digging her fingers into the ground as she fought the spell that was trying to expel her from her host body. She snarled at the teens as her eyes began to glow.

"You haven’t won anything," she gritted out. "Without me she’s just a husk, a worthless shell."

"Better than being your puppet," Jesse shot back.

A second later, Claire finished the spell, her voice ringing with triumph as the last words left her lips. The woman’s body was overtaken with light again as the angel was driven out, and then the light faded and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Jesse banished the holy fire with a wave of his hand, and they rushed to her side.

"Bastard hurt her as it was leaving," Claire growled, as she felt the woman’s weak, thready pulse. "It hurt her just to get back at us."

"I can heal her," Jesse started, but then they froze at the sound of voices coming closer.

"No time," Claire snapped, grabbing Jesse’s shoulder and dragging him back into the shadows. "Let’s get out of here before those people get here."

Jesse obediently teleported them to the top of the roof, but he was scowling. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he muttered.

"There’s a dead body and an injured woman down there," Claire reminded him, "and I’m holding a big-ass blade. You really want to protest our innocence to the people down there?"

She gestured to the people who’d gathered around the woman’s body, several of them on cell phones as they called for help.

"I just hate leaving her down there when I can do something about it," Jesse protested, softly.

"We’ll find her at the hospital," Claire promised him. "Sneak in after hours, a little of your mojo, no one will ever know we were there."

Jesse nodded, reluctantly, teleporting them into the next alley over. Claire slid the angel blade back into its sheath, buttoning her coat to hide the weapon. They left the alley and headed down the street, but Claire paused to watch the woman being loaded into an ambulance.

"Isn’t it horrible?" a bystander asked, her voice entirely too excited for the situation. "They think she was mugged!"

"Yeah," Jesse said, "it’s terrible."

"Oh, don’t worry, dear," the older woman said, misinterpreting his tone. "She’ll be all right. Angels are all around us, you know."

"Yeah, we know," Claire muttered. "That’s the problem."


	5. Sam and Johnny; pretending to hate each other AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **queenofterrifyingpower** is completely to blame for the fact that I ship Sam Winchester and Johnny Storm. I've written more for them than for most of my canon OTPs.

The crush in front of Professor Katz’s office was almost as bad as the time Johnny had braved a Black Friday sale at Best Buy just so Sue could get a new computer. He shouldered his way through the crowd to get to the front, eager to see the class ranking posted on the door. After that last test, he should have jumped up to the top of the list.

The crowd parted beside him suddenly, and Johnny rolled his eyes as Sam stepped up next to him, towering over everyone else in the class. Sam grinned down at him.

"Having trouble seeing the list?" he asked, smirking despite the innocent tone in his voice. "You know, if you sit on my shoulders, you might be able to see."

"I will kick you ass, Winchester," Johnny said, deadpan. "Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s my ranking?"

"Number two," Sam told him, and Johnny spluttered in outrage.

"Two!" he snapped. "After all the studying I did, the all-nighters…who the hell beat me out for number one?"

Sam’s smile got even wider.

"You - you punk-ass Gigantor!"

—————

"Punk-ass Gigantor?" Sam asked, later, as he flopped down onto their bed with a sigh.

"It was the only thing I could think of," Johnny confessed, as he crawled onto the bed behind Sam and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. "You have to admit, you really are freakishly tall."


	6. Sam and Johnny; prompt: dude, what's wrong with you?

"You’re dating my brother? Dude, what’s wrong with you?" Dean was so busy laughing at his own joke that he didn’t even see the fist flying at his face, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor while Sam’s new boyfriend stood over him. (And were his fists on fire?)

"Dude!" Dean glared up at the lanky, young man glowering down at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?”

"If you ever talk about Sam like that again," the guy threatened, but then he was interrupted by Sam coming into the bunker with his arms full of takeout bags.

Sam took in the scene in front of him without even blinking. “I was going to ask if you two were playing nicely, but I’m gonna guess that the answer’s no,” he commented, as he went past them and into the kitchen. “Johnny, I got that Mongolian beef that you like so much.”

"Your brother is an asshole," Johnny told him, as he stepped over Dean to follow Sam into the kitchen. "And believe me," he added, as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, "my sister is married to the king of assholes, and your brother could steal the throne."

"Do I even want to know what he did?" Sam asked, as he unpacked the bags onto the counter.

"I didn’t do anything!" Dean burst out, furiously, barging into the kitchen. "We were talking, and that son of a bitch just clocked me!"

"You insulted Sam, asswipe!" Johnny snarled, keeping a protective arm around Sam as he glared at Dean.

"Dean, shut up," Sam said, mildly, before Dean could say anything to Johnny. "Johnny, that’s just how Dean is."

"You don’t even know what he said!" Johnny protested, even as Dean spluttered with outrage. "And don’t give me that ‘he’s my brother’ bull, because Sue would take my head off if I ever acted like he just did."

"I didn’t insult you," Dean insisted, angrily.

"What did you say?" When Dean looked incredulously at Sam, Sam shrugged. "Obviously you said something bad enough to make Johnny punch you in the face, so what was it?"

"You’re dating my brother?" Johnny quoted, glaring daggers at Dean, "Dude, what’s wrong with you?"

"Oh, he’s just trying to make me look bad," Dean muttered.

"I think you’re managing that just fine on your own," Johnny shot back.

"Is that what you think?" Sam interrupted their argument, quietly. "That if someone wants to be with me, there must be something wrong with them?"

"I didn’t mean that the way it sounds," Dean protested, but his words lacked his earlier vehemence.

"How did you mean it?" Sam asked, his voice carefully neutral as he watched his brother squirm.

"I - um," Dean stammered, and then he shot Sam a pleading look. "Oh, come on, Sammy! I was just joking around."

"It’s Sam,” Sam corrected him. “And Johnny and I are going to go have dinner in my room, now. When you figure out why I’m not laughing at your little joke, you can come find me.”


	7. Sam and Johnny; pick-up lines

"You’re so hot, you could practically be a supernova. And believe me, I know supernovas."

Sam flicked a glance over to Johnny standing by his stool, an eager grin on his face. Then he shrugged nonchalantly and turned his attention back to his beer.

"I’m an astronaut," Johnny continued, clearly undeterred, "and I can tell you without a doubt that your ass is out of this world."

"I’m sitting down," Sam pointed out. "You can’t even see my ass."

"More’s the pity," came the murmur. "Don’t suppose you want to stand up, maybe give me a little twirl?" He flicked a finger for emphasis, eying Sam suggestively.

"Not with those lines, flyboy," Sam retorted.

"Oh, I’m just getting started," Johnny told him. "How’d you like to join the one hundred thousand mile club?"

Sam affected a yawn.

"I will make you crack, damn it," Johnny muttered under his breath, and that nearly had Sam laughing. But he wasn’t going to ruin the game, now. Then he had to bite back a grin as Johnny leaned over his shoulder, breath ghosting over his ear. "If you were a phaser," he whispered, "you’d be set on stunning."

Sam chewed on the inside of his lip to keep the smile off his face. “We’re moving onto Star Trek puns, now?” he asked, but his voice wavered just a tiny bit, and from the triumphant grin on Johnny’s face, Sam knew he’d heard it.

"NASA just called me with my next mission," Johnny went on. "I’m going to Uranus."

Sam snorted, and Johnny poked him gently in the ribs. “Uranus,” he whispered, exaggeratedly, “Uranus, Uranus, Uranus-“

When Sam bent double over the bar, tears streaming down his face as he laughed, Johnny punched the air in victory. 

"I win!" he declared, happily. "I am the king of pickup lines!"

Sam finally managed to stop laughing long enough to look over at Johnny, who was doing a victory dance much to the annoyance of the other bar patrons. Sliding off his stool, Sam snagged Johnny around the stomach and pulled the younger man flush against his chest.

"So, your Highness," he murmured, "seeing as how you’ve seduced me with your masterful wordplay, now what are you going to do?"

Johnny turned around in Sam’s arms and looked him square in the eye. “Rip off all your clothes and climb you like a tree,” he said, dead serious. Then, a frown flickered across his face as he realized that his last statement didn’t exactly match up with his previous space-oriented remarks. “A moon…tree,” he faltered. “A really tall moon tree - shut up, Sam!”

Sam howled with laughter.


End file.
